Love and Ruin
by needsmoreicing
Summary: There might have been tears if Irene was a different woman, but she is not.


A/N:

Thank you so much to the lovely daisherz365 for the Beta work!

I do not own any recognizable characters!

* * *

Sherlock has decided that he is to avoid cabs at all costs. First the cabbie, then the whole Moriarty business, and now being taken hostage by one Irene Adler. Really this was becoming ridiculous.

"Well, obviously this is taken. I'll just-" He makes for the door but The Woman cuts him off with a playful smirk and an elegant hand running down the length of his arm.

"Nonsense, I'm quite capable of sharing." She states, a look he can't quite place in her green eyes. It is not one of slow burning seduction that he's able to shuck off, nor one of haughty intelligence that battles his own. No, it is different than anything he thinks The Woman is capable of.

"Sit and relax, Sherlock. I hear that you like stories and now I'm going to tell you one of my own." There's a slight lift of her chin that dares him to defy her, it is what irrevocably makes her The Woman to him. He does not, however, notice that his own chin is lifted in the same manner that defines who he is as Sherlock Holmes to her.

"Very good, you'd make such a good student." The wry smirk is back as is the seductive gleam in her eye. He does not acknowledge it and she continues. "After all this is what this story is about, two students."

She runs her hands down her immaculately tailored red skirt over her crossed legs, and if he were anyone else he would think that she was nervous, as The Woman stared straight ahead as they bled into the heavy London traffic.

"A few years ago, more than I would care to admit in the presence of a man, there was a young woman." Her voice is light and he can see her pulling the memory out of her own brand of filing. "And university was just away to waste her time." Irene's breath flutters like her eyelids as they close, she inhales, and a satisfied grin crosses her lips. "Such a _lovely_ filler."

Her eyes open again, and the satisfaction remains. "Classes are boring, but there is one that she doesn't mind so much. It's her biology lab." The corners of her mouth quirk upward a little, fighting a smile, Sherlock blinks and the look is gone. "And it's because of another _girl_ much to her surprise. An average looking one at that, not a thing that would bring your attention to a halt. A girl with long chestnut hair, huge glasses, and she smells like grapefruit and home." A single chuckle escapes red stained lips and the story continues.

"She's brilliant, hands quick and light, and she chews on her bottom lip when she's working. Absolutely delightful." Irene glances over at Sherlock with with a small grin. "The other woman is startled. After all the beautiful men she's conquered, someone so commonplace is _distracting_." She draws her bottom lip between her teeth and chews on it for a split second before turning her gaze back into the traffic. "She tried to push the other girl out of her mind, focusing on herself as usual. But she saw the other girl everywhere now. Once she saw the girl being ruthlessly teased by a few law students, and did not say a word. She let it burn her throat and churn her stomach until she was sick."

There might have been tears if Irene was a different woman, but she is not.

"The girl was different, her smile never faltered and she always wondered how someone so average could be so strong."

The story lulls and The Woman shrugs. "She later just accepts that the answer is '_because that's just who she is_.' That there was no motivator, it was just how this other girl was wired to think and be. And she finds it altogether more beautiful than anything else."

"One stormy evening, she was looking out her window only to find the other girl standing in the rain. She was pounding on the door to her dormitories and no one would let her in." Irene's hand briefly touched her temple. "I think people were actively locking her out." A humorless laugh gives way and she rolls her eyes.

\"Anyway, she invites the other girl into her dormitory. She's shivering like a leaf when brought inside and is offered a shower and a change of clothes and gladly accepts. But it's hard for the other woman to control herself now, knowing she could easily have this simple girl who is far too sweet for her own good. It's even harder when she emerges from the shower in the other woman's clothes, still smelling like grapefruit, home and now the other woman's shampoo. She is still shivering and the other woman hands her a jumper dotted in cherries. It's her least favorite, but it's comfortable and looks so painfully endearing on the girl. She hardly knew what to do when the girl started crying softly, saying that it was the first kindness she'd been shown at the university. So she held the woman that she found that she could love, this strange creature who could happily cut things open and smile for strangers but was so broken on the inside."

Irene's mold broke and she locked eyes with Sherlock. "She took notice of all the cruelties shown to this humble creature, a goddess among scum, and befriended her until the untimely death of her father."

Sherlock's eye narrowed the puzzles falling into place.

"Do you know what I did to the people who were so cruel to Molly Hooper, Sherlock?" Irene's smile was calculated, her voice cold, and Sherlock made no movement as her perfect face contorted into a sneer. "I ruined them."

The cab comes to a halt. "Just something to think about, Mister Holmes."

The Woman lifts a carefully manicured eyebrow. "This is your stop, 221 Baker Street. You may leave."

And he does. Sherlock climbs the stairs to 221 B and stares at the woman on the couch in a jumper littered with cherries.

"Molly?" She looks up from her case studies with a smile. "Where did you get your jumper?"

Her eyes cloud over for a second and her bottom lip trembles. "I got in in Uni. I-It was a gift. A friend of mine, Irene." She smiles more brightly and goes back to her files. Three quick strides later, she is in his arms, his face buried in her shoulder. She smells like grapefruit and home, and if he were a different man, Sherlock might have cried out for the times she'd been treated poorly. For the times _he_ treated her poorly.

"Molly Hooper, so far above mere mortals." He mumbles under his breath. She does not understand but holds him close. His Mind Palace is forever smelling of grapefruit and home. But the halls dance with the echos of a phrase that was once uttered to him by a pair of red stained lips. _I ruined them._


End file.
